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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223764">Nature of the Beast Mini-Series: A Rose by Any Other Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniKoontzy/pseuds/MiniKoontzy'>MiniKoontzy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nature of the Beast Mini-Series: A Rose by Any Other Name [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:58:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniKoontzy/pseuds/MiniKoontzy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The old adage attests that love is a battlefield. But for Polyhexian noble Ranseur, love turns out to be a confusing maze he has to stumble through to reach the end result - a result that takes some coming to grips with. After all, when your pampered segment of society insists that loving a beast-frame is impure, what, then, does that make you?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ranseur/Tantō</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nature of the Beast Mini-Series: A Rose by Any Other Name [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827424</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nature of the Beast Mini-Series: A Rose by Any Other Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Busy, Ranseur decided, was a good thing. Far better to let the mind focus on a series of tasks than allow it to wander down unwelcome avenues. But, he was furloughed on this little planet, indefinitely furloughed. It was impossible to plan and execute the elaborate heists on a world where everything was scaled down. He had been given a brief respite, but he almost wished he had rejected that contract – it had made his restlessness all the more pronounced in retrospect. There was nothing for him to <em>do</em> here, and that left his mind open to worried speculation about the state of affairs back home. He had been gone for – Primes, counting the time spent in the stasis pod, it would be…it would be nearly a decade. A veritable blink of an eye for his species, but when you were a slum-dweller in Polyhex even the shortest times felt horribly stretched.</p><p>"Sweetspark, I do not mean to seem callous but I <em>am</em> trying to focus," came Tantō's terse voice.</p><p>He leaned on the side of the hangar door and sighed out at the mountains. "My apologies, darling," but his thoughts lingered on Polyhex regardless.</p><p>"I know you are worried, Ranseur, but there is nothing we can do at present for them. Save your worry for when you <em>can</em> do something."</p><p>He smiled. Little spurts of practical wisdom like that were what he adored about Tantō. For him, the present always took precedence over unchangeable past and unknowable future. Things beyond his control simply did not warrant the employment of his brilliant mind. His prowess was better spent elsewhere.</p><p>If only he had an outlet for this worried daydreaming like he did, he thought in rueful amusement.</p><p>"You do," grunted Tantō. "Come over here and watch. You might learn something."</p><p>"Darling, you know I haven't the aptitude for hacking," he argued.</p><p>"Ranseur..." he growled.</p><p>Smiling, he turned away from the mountain vista and back to the bland interior of the hangar. It was a hovel compared to his fully furnished lair back home but he would not fault Rosalie for providing them a place to stay (and work) free of charge. Shelter was shelter, and it had heating for those cold Canadian nights – and that beautiful vista as an added bonus. Tucked towards the back, Tantō sat cross legged in front of what had once been a workbench for airplane maintenance tools, now cleared to act as a desk amusingly disproportionate to his size. On it sat a laptop, a burner machine one of the local youths had provided as a welcome gift. An old thing, slow as sin, but reliable. Its screen, once again, was a blockade of shifting code.</p><p>"And who has the misfortune to be on your chopping block today, my dear?" Ranseur wondered as he leaned in.</p><p>"Some government official whose name I will not try to pronounce."</p><p>He stared at him, "Aah, darling, is that wise?"</p><p>The beast-former glanced back briefly. "No," he smirked, "but I wanted a challenge after that abysmal performance by Apple last week."</p><p>He stared for a moment or two longer, then chuckled. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around the mech's neck, and peered over his pauldron. He wasn't interested in the screen or its contents, not really, and Tantō knew that, but he endeavored to follow the advice given anyway. He meant it in good faith. At least it was something to distract his sight if not his mind. There was so much that could have gone wrong in Polyhex after the arrest, and he had no means of knowing what. And Chandelle – he wondered how she was doing. Being forced to start over from nothing twice in the span of just a few months was the most economic hardship she had ever faced. How was she handling it?</p><p>Tantō sighed loudly and pulled his focus from the hack, "Ranseur, honestly. I cannot focus when you are flooding my awareness with your worried postulating!"</p><p>"I can't help it!" he protested in a faint whine, nudging his nasal against the back of his lover's helm. "I have nothing else to do here!"</p><p>Groaning, the beast-former massaged a hand against the side of his helm, "We need to find something to distract you. <em>Actually </em>distract you."</p><p>"And how do you propose to do that?" he wondered morosely. "I can't plan heists, I can't rob, I have nothing to occu–"</p><p>Tantō rolled his optics, "Quit your melodramatic <em>whining</em>. It does not have to be associated with your skill set to occupy you. Just something to stimulate your mind out of your worry."</p><p>He managed a wry smile, "So what do you propose, dear?"</p><p>The beast-former rose, not bothering to shake him loose, and put a hand to his audial while casting him a sly sideways smile.</p><p>"No, no-o. No. You're not – Don't you da–<em>mmph</em>!" His desperate lunge was stopped by Tantō grabbing his face sideways with his free hand and pushing him back.</p><p>"Beta Outpost," he said, and Ranseur groaned, "this is the Digital Devil. Would you mind terribly child-sitting my partner for the afternoon? He is impairing my ability to work."</p><p>"Wha–<em>child-sitting?!</em>" he gasped. "<em>Tantō</em>! I am <em>not </em>a <em>child</em>!"</p><p>Tantō offered an amused, flat look over his pauldron before turning back to the call, "You will? Thank you, I appreciate it."</p><p>A groundbridge snapped open just beyond the threshold of the hangar. Sighing, Ranseur let go of Tantō's neck and trotted towards it. He cast back one last look at the hangar and its occupant, and walked through. Cold mountain air and lovely forested vistas were replaced by the heavier air of the coast and the...less than aesthetically pleasing surrounding of the vintage salvage yard – not that he'd ever disparage the owner by admitting so out loud. For a cluttered place, it was still welcoming. It felt lived in.</p><p>His mood improved somewhat on seeing Sideswipe, vainly trying to puzzle out how to fit his old hat onto his helm. There was no way to know if this was his first attempt or hundredth. A new femme, ornate and foreign looking, laughed at his failed attempt.</p><p>"Why cruel world?!" the mech whined. "Why?!"</p><p>He chuckled. Sideswipe's expression changed in an instant. Drab disappointment gave way to glee.</p><p>"Ranseur!" he cried. "See, Windblade?! I told you he looked awesome!"</p><p>"And I thought I was the most ostentatious looking 'bot here," she agreed in good humor.</p><p>He bowed to her. It never hurt to spruce up one's existence via style, something Windblade knew judging by her own appearance. He particularly liked the little red flourishes beneath her optics. He made a note to try adding some of his own at some point. Heroes, Sideswipe had once said, wore masks. Maybe he could paint one on.</p><p>"Sideswipe," he greeted back. "You've kept yourself out of trouble, I trust?"</p><p>The youth's grin widened, "Never!"</p><p>"He's lying!" the young cadet called from nearby. "He's been on shockingly good behavior lately!"</p><p>"Have you now?" Ranseur smirked.</p><p>"Shh!" the red youth whispered. "It's all part of the grand plan to lull her into a false sense of security –"</p><p>"I can <em>hear </em>you!" the cadet warned. "There's no grand plan. He's an <em>a'almvus </em>now."</p><p>"Are you? Congratulations, then."</p><p>Sideswipe made a face and stuck his glossa out. "Yeah, I gotta play nice now or I get my membership revoked. It suuuuucks."</p><p>He laughed. "Ah, but you now have the favor and protection of a Prime – something I lack!" he observed amiably.</p><p>"I mean, yeah, I guess. That's pretty cool," the red youth admitted.</p><p>And, he winked and continued, if it was any consolation, the mohawk looked far better on him than the hat. The ensuing pleased little smile that comment warranted was worth being kicked out of Revelstoke for a while. The pleased little smile that comment warranted was worth being kicked out of Revelstoke for a while.</p><p>"So," came the voice of the lovely young medic. "Do you plan to flirt with Sideswipe all day or are you going to do something productive?"</p><p>"Ah! My sweet spring ballad!" Ranseur exclaimed, and bowed. "My exile is all the brighter with you present!"</p><p>The medic rolled her optics and gave him a strange, wry half-smile, half-frown. He bowed to her, smiling back. He knew that look; he knew better than to keep flattering her when she didn't want it.</p><p>"So your partner put you on a lock out, huh?" Denny Clay smirked.</p><p>Ranseur smiled back, "Indeed. My mind is distracted, therefore my thoughts distract him. The mixed blessing of being part of a bonded pair: everything is shared."</p><p>Denny blinked. "Oh. Wait. So you two are...?" He blinked again. "You're...a gay couple?"</p><p>"Happy? Yes, though we have our 'off' days, we are quite happy together," he smiled.</p><p>The man's face went red. "That's...not what I meant. You know what? Never mind. Doesn't matter."</p><p>He chuckled, "I merely tease. I know full well that the term has a double meaning here, Mr. Clay. As I explained to a youth who asked us the same question, same gendered couples are quite common on Cybertron. We <em>are </em>machines I will remind you. Gender identity for us is rather...well, arbitrary. We are who we want to be, not what we are made. A male can act and be fully feminine just as much as a female can act and be fully masculine. It makes very little difference to us. Our bodies aren't a reflection of gender, they are a reflection of the various body types of the original Thirteen Primes. Or," he shrugged, "so the story goes."</p><p>Father and son both looked baffled and intrigued at that admission. But there was a brightness in their eyes that said they were in no way off-put by the information. Russell's glittering eyes betrayed he wanted to know more.</p><p>"Sure, but Predacon and city-dweller couples aren't <em>as</em> commonplace," Charity noted, "and I suspect that holds painfully true in a place like Polyhex."</p><p>His smile turned wane, "Agonizingly true, yes. Though I do not regret my being hated and ousted from high society for loving Tantō."</p><p>"High soci –" Fix-It repeated, then stopped. The little mini-con's optics looked ready to pop out of their sockets. "You were one of the elites! That explains your behavior and manner of speech! I <em>knew</em> you were withholding something!" he cried, jabbing one of his little clasp hands toward him.</p><p>"Not out of dishonesty, Fix-It," Ranseur protested softly, hands up. "I do not speak of it freely, for I am ashamed at having ever been associated, much less involved with those avaricious, self-absorbed degenerates. And naturally they despise talking of me – they do not like to admit 'one of their own' went rogue."</p><p>"Hence the false identity logged into the ship's database?" concluded the little mini-con.</p><p>He nodded. "Exactly. Every chance they get, they defame me in some way in order to distance themselves."</p><p>"Wait, but you're a <em>Fauxline</em>, Ranseur," the cadet reminded him. "I thought it was impossible for beast-style frames of any kind to make it that high up in Polyhex."</p><p>"I was not always a Fauxline, my dear. That came after my...<em>departure </em>from Polyhex."</p><p>"You totally reformatted yourself?!" gasped Fix-It. "Why? <em>How?!</em>"</p><p>Ranseur smiled enigmatically back.</p><p>Windblade gave a quiet, prompting cough. Fix-It's jaw dropped as his processor understood what that smile (and her cough) meant.</p><p>"Oh for Pete's sake, stop baiting us!" Denny cried.</p><p>His thoughts rose with his smile. "You would like to hear the story, then?"</p><p>"Of <em>course </em>we would!" little Zodiac chirped as she bounced on her tiny trods, "Now quit with the verbal foreplay and get to it!"</p><p>He felt Tantō approve of the idea. Ranseur agreed. It would be good, he thought, to recount his story to willing audials. And, in delving into his own history, he might stave off that awful worried anxiousness that was, in truth, a sub-variety of homesickness. Even a vividly conjured memory of home was still a version of being home, he mused, regardless if not all of those memories were distinctly happy.</p><p>"You are not busy though? I would not be taking time better used for something else?"</p><p>"Nah. We're good for now," Russell clarified.</p><p>"Shame Windy and Sen aren't here to hear it," the young Altihexian, Backdraft, noted.</p><p>"Oh! I'll record it for posterity!" suggested Fix-It. "Hold on, hold on, I can set the <em>Alchemor</em> to record audio..."</p><p>The little orange mini-con started fiddling with the control console. Ranseur smiled at his eagerness and his quick-fire mutterings as he did so. How quickly Fix-It had changed his perception of him upon discovering who he really was. How quickly he was willing to shove aside his thoughts on criminal behavior when that behavior was used for the good of those who had been wronged.</p><p>"Would you mind if one more is added to the audience?" came a rumbling voice.</p><p>To his surprise, a large red and blue mech entered the commons. Physically imposing he was, but not in the grumpily aggressive way that Tantō was. He was the aged mountain to Tantō's burly volcano. The newcomer's bright blue optics, those of an old intellectual, eyed him as if he were a particularly fascinating research article.</p><p>"What is it with you and eavesdropping lately?" Smokescreen teased the newcomer.</p><p>"I did not wish to interrupt," the newcomer stated.</p><p>"But aren't you interrupting now?" asked Zodiac.</p><p>The figure arched a brow ridge at her. "Is it interrupting if it is consciously timed to not be so? Interruption implies impulsivity."</p><p>"No, no, no. <em>Don't</em> start, Optimus," Bumblebee urged humorously. "We don't need a Socratic dialogue over the nature of interruptions and timing right now."</p><p>"Ah, so it is <em>you </em>I have to thank for my existence!" Ranseur cried. He bowed, "I would tip my hat to you had I not given it away as a gift!"</p><p>The old Prime smiled faintly, eyeing Sideswipe sideways. "I was wondering who the previous owner was."</p><p>Ranseur chuckled. "But, as I lack my hat, I could humor you with a different debate about the nature of moral thievery later, if you like."</p><p>That statement elicited a very quick change of expression. "Thievery?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah! Did we forget to mention that? He's a thief," Sideswipe told him cheerfully.</p><p>"I beg your pardon? <em>A </em>thief?" Ranseur repeated, playfully offended. "I'll have you know I am the greatest thief ever to grace Cybertron's surface! I didn't earn the title 'the Prince of Pilfering' by being some in-nominate low-grade <em>thug</em>! I am the very pinnacle of what it means to be a Prince of Thieves! Other thieves would bow in the street if I passed them by!"</p><p>"Your notoriety would explain your presence on the <em>Alchemor</em>," the Prime observed dryly.</p><p>Ranseur laughed heartily, "It offers much in the way of explanation, doesn't it? But I'll have you know that I prefer the term 'gentleman thief', sir, as it is far more indicative of how I operate. Brute force break-ins would be an insult to what I can do. A true thief, a good thief, relies on skill and dexterity to acquire their illicit goods – both of which I happen to possess a bounty of after years of practice!"</p><p>Unfortunately, he thought privately, it was so much more complicated than mere criminal activity. His illicit deeds had merely been the needed legal excuse to locking him up.</p><p>"I'm guessing your Fauxline upgrade is pretty handy, too," noted Bumblebee through a pleasant smile.</p><p>"Oh, indeed! Did you know these claw tips are excellent for cutting through metallic glass and transparent aluminum?"</p><p>Ranseur deployed his retractable claw tips to show them off. Personally, his favorite upgrade would always be his tail. There was something so very fun and expressive about it, and the spike at the end had proven useful in the most unusual circumstances.</p><p>"Does your partner support this?" wondered Optimus.</p><p>"Support?" He laughed uproariously. "My good sir, Tantō is my accomplice! I am the Wily Wild Cat. <em>He</em> is the Digital Devil! If anything, he has more skill at this endeavor than I do! He doesn't even need to leave the safety of our lair to burgle someone! Really, he only comes with me if he suspects I'll get in trouble!"</p><p>'<em>Which is most times...</em>' his mate grumbled over the bond.</p><p>'<em>Oh, do hush,</em> <em>dear,</em>' he pleasantly scolded. '<em>You know you like the fun of a field heist as much as I do.</em>'</p><p>Tantō grumbled. Ranseur could detect the little spurt of mischief that belied his gruffness nevertheless.</p><p>"So he keeps you from doing anything stupid," laughed Zodiac. "Yeah, that checks out."</p><p>He laughed with her. But he knew his mate did it because he cared about him. Tantō's big body had an equally big spark.</p><p>"Alright, it's set!" declared the little mini-con.</p><p>Ranseur took a seat on the edge of the Alchemor console while the others found comfortable spots of their own. Denny and Russell claimed the couch with Fix-It and Zodiac, and an adorable little house cat purred softly while it slept at their side. Grimlock flopped down on his belly in beast form right beside the couch. Everyone else either sat or leaned against each other or the Alchemor. As for Strongarm, Bumblebee, the handsome golden Praxian, and the old Prime, they elected to stand. And thus almost a dozen eager gazes honed in on him.</p><p>He laughed, and began: "My tale begins on one dark and stormy night many years ago..."</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Kra-KOOM!</em>
</p><p>The building rattled just a little at that sky-borne explosion. Ranseur, however, did not. He sat languidly at the window, rain spattering and streaming down the panes, and sighed. Normally, he found a kind of solace in the music of a rainstorm, but after nearly three straight solar cycles of it, it depressed him. Worse, he found himself restless. He never liked the sense when it came up – an unwanted tightness and internal jittery-ness in his limbs, while his thoughts meandered aimlessly. Walks sometimes served to dispel it for a while, but unless he wanted to be drenched in acid drain –</p><p>The sky rumbled. He grumbled back at it. Ranseur hated inconveniences.</p><p>His attention wandered back to light and sound of the room itself, where a colorful array of 'bots milled, chatted, and generally enjoyed themselves. Polyhexian elites like himself were quite fond of such gatherings, and boring, rainy days were the perfect excuse to huddle up inside to pass such days away in leisure. Then again, most days for a Polyhexian elite were leisurely. The gatherings merely boasted more activity.</p><p>Ordinarily, Ranseur would have joined his fellows – some, like Highbar, he had known for many years. But, not for the first time lately, he found himself somewhat apathetic at the scene before him, and he wasn't entirely sure why.</p><p>Frowning, he rose and wandered to another window. It did nothing to help. His legs still twitched, his mind still wandered, and he still felt apathetic.</p><p>He sighed. What was wrong with him lately?</p><p>"Aw, what's the matter, sweetie?" a rich voice like caramel asked him teasingly.</p><p>He turned to find an ornate pinkish-red femme flier stooped in front of him. Chandelle was one of the few present who managed to draw his attention out of his bizarre funk. Most were content to take her "services" at such gatherings, as that was what she was there for. But over the years he had known her, Ranseur had come to see her as far more useful for advice than for pleasure – and yes, he did appreciate the seeming strangeness of relying on a <em>thost </em>for advice. That was the truth of it though: there was a surprising depth to her intelligence that most simply ignored in favor of her appearance and...other talents.</p><p>"Hello, Chandi," he greeted abstractedly before gazing back out of the window.</p><p>She took a seat beside him. "Why the pout-y face?" she prodded.</p><p>He didn't answer, for he had none to give her. Chandelle answered back in her own wordless way; he felt her smirk change to a more genuine smile.</p><p>"You always get like this when it rains, Ransy," she observed with some humor. "Chin up. At least you're not outside. You'd really have cause to look miserable then."</p><p>"Then why <em>am </em>I miserable?" he muttered – really more to himself than to her.</p><p>Chandelle didn't answer, not right away. She sat on that question for a while like any good advisor. Soon, the femme eyed him with such a look of critical scrutiny he briefly felt she was peering directly into his mind somehow, without the use of her mind-invading cables. His own pale tabby orange optics stared back into her pale blue ones.</p><p>"You're lonely," she concluded.</p><p>"Lonely?" he repeated, baffled. "How can I be lonely when I'm surrounded by other people?"</p><p>The femme perked a slender brow ridge at him as if asking him to answer his own question. Ranseur wasn't able to. He floundered instead, optics round and mouth agape, almost sputtering his confusion aloud.</p><p>"Ranseur, when was the last time you went out with someone?" she asked him frankly. "Went out with someone and got to know them – <em>really</em> know them? Or, for that matter, when was the last time you did anything remotely interesting?"</p><p>"I-I..."</p><p>Chandelle smiled and went on to clarify that he had nothing at present to occupy his mind. His "poor little processor" was bored to tears, she teased. Being stuck indoors was only serving to amplify the problem. Which she understood perfectly. No one liked being trapped inside, even if they were trapped in relative luxury, surrounded by familiar faces. A body was made to move, after all, the same way a mind was meant to be active and engaged. One out of play was bad, both out of play was objectively terrible – for anyone.</p><p>He leaned forward to cup his chin against his curled thumb and index digit. It didn't sound too absurd when she put it that way.</p><p>"What do you propose I do about it?"</p><p>The femme leaned against the window. She shrugged, "Try to find a date. Or just someone who piques your interest."</p><p>"I suppose you don't count," he guessed through a wry smile.</p><p>"Nope. I'm off limits. Sorry, Ransy," she winked.</p><p>He scowled playfully at her before looking back to the window. He was surprised (and thankful) to note that the rain had finally let up, though the clouds still lingered like a blanket over the skies and thunder still rumbled in the distance. While the crowd was rather oblivious to the change, Ranseur practically leapt at the chance. To him, home seemed more appealing than where he was – no offense to present company, naturally. Chandelle was always good company regardless of context.</p><p>Giving a quick nod to Chandelle, he slipped back out into the streets before heading into the underground transport tunnels. Eagerness to be home didn't mean he had to sacrifice his fine finish to do it by walking through the drenched streets topside. He had standards.</p><p>On nearing the tunnel's exit, he caught movement out of the corner of his optic. For a moment, he assumed it was a retro-rat or some other vermin that had somehow gotten in. What he saw instead was a grungy mini-con, his expression terrified upon spotting him. As quickly as he had appeared, the tiny 'bot escaped out of sight.</p><p>Ranseur's lip-plates curled into a sneer. That face was not the face of one who belonged in this sector of the city. What was one of the lower classes doing slinking around in <em>his</em> neighborhood?</p><p>Home, of course, was not far from where the gathering took place. A mere breem of leisurely walking saw him back inside his own foyer. "Lavish" was the best ways to describe the home of a Polyhexian elite. Where he lived was no stately mansion but no expense had been wasted outfitting the place with comforts, niceties, works of art and stylish furniture. However, Ranseur didn't smile at the familiarity of any of it. He frowned. Despite the walk his legs still felt like they were twitching internally, and after being surrounded by other 'bots for a while, the total emptiness and quiet of his home was rather eerie.</p><p>He put a hand to his helm and sighed. Chandelle was right. He needed to get out of his state of mind. It was ruining his otherwise pleasant existence.</p><p>Flipping a dim light on helped dispel the eeriness at least. In darkness, everything always looked more haunting.</p><p>His frown came back as he thought deeper on Chandelle's words. He knew realistically finding someone that intrigued him would not be so easy as she made it sound. She, the infamous "Red Rover" of Polyhex, had allure on her side. He wasn't sure what he had to offer exactly. He was well-off, and well-educated, not that any Polyhexian elite wouldn't be. Chandelle always said he was good company, too.</p><p>Ranseur regretted leaving Chandelle so abruptly. She might have offered him more insight.</p><p>In a flick of his wrist he brought up a holo-display where a contact code was input. To his great relief, it was answered quickly. Chandelle appeared on video display lying belly down on her berth back at home.</p><p>"<em>You really are</em> <em>bored,</em>" she ribbed with a smirk. "<em>Worse than I thought! I practically just spoke to</em> <em>you!</em>"</p><p>He shook his helm, "No, no. I...need your advice again."</p><p>The femme prompted her chin in one hand. "<em>What kind?</em>"</p><p>"I...I don't know what to do," he admitted, abashed. "You say to find someone but –"</p><p>Chandelle offered a knowing smile. "<em>You don't have to stay in Polyhex for the search, you know. Get out of that bubble and explore a little, sweetie. It won't kill you.</em>"</p><p>"It might," snipped Ranseur testily. "Have you seen the fallout near Yuss? Or the Argon Sea near Shjozul?"</p><p>Chandelle rolled her optics. "<em>You're such a sparkling.</em>"</p><p>"I am not!" he scoffed. "And Chandi, it's not really loneliness or boredom. It's restlessness. No matter what I do it never goes away."</p><p>"<em>Then do a road trip! Give your lazy axles a workout.</em>"</p><p>"And be mauled by Predacons en route? I think not."</p><p>Chandelle groaned, frustrated. "<em>Look, I'm trying to help, Ranseur. If all you're going to do is shoot down my suggestions, why did you even call me?</em>"</p><p>She reached her hand forward and cut the call.</p><p>Ranseur sighed, leaned back, and pinched his nasal bridge. He felt frustrated, too, but now he felt a twinge of guilt. Chandelle was only trying to help – and, if he were honest, her proffered suggestions weren't <em>that</em> terrible. A road trip might help with that infernal twitchiness, and the Tagan Heights were reportedly fabulous this time of the year. Maybe he could find someone there who wouldn't bore him. That city was not a terribly long way away, either; a joor or so of driving would see him there easily. Vos was of a similar distance. He had always wanted to see its titanic, cloud-scraping spires in person.</p><p>While a groundbridge would be more convenient to reach either city, Chandelle had been insistent about moving around. She knew him better than he knew himself, it seemed. But was that really so surprising, given her unique ability? All she needed was one peek with those cables, and a 'bot unfolded before her like an elaborate codex. She had gotten that cursory peek a long time ago. If she gave him advice, it wasn't just because she was spit-balling; she gave it because knew it would work.</p><p>Idly, for no other reason than to move, he decided to pack a few things in advance. Polish. Energon. Credits. He then downloaded a digital map of both cities.</p><p>And, finally – a small rifle.</p><p>He had never had to use the rifle before despite receiving training. Ever since he had purchased the weapon it had hung on two hooks more as a decoration than an actual tool. But outside the safety of Polyhex, danger was rampant and it moved on four legs. He would not take any changes of being mauled by a particularly savage Predacon. Highbar had always said the beasts would just as soon attack someone as greet them, and he believed him. History attested them as brutal hunters who weren't above preying on one another. Oh, other cities would humor them as equals, treat them as fellows, but Polyhex's Councilor, Star Saber, wasn't willing to play naively with fire. That was why, despite outcry from other Councilors, he had banned the beasts from entering his city. His people came first, not some unknown brutes who had the gall to play the civility card.</p><p>Ranseur tested the rifle's charge to find it was still in pristine working condition. Good. Better safe than sorry when leaving the safety of his home.</p><p>But, he mused, his trip could wait for tomorrow. A journey required its partaker to be well-rested, as well as well-armed. Three days of dreary rain and monotonous socializing had left him feeling quite drained. What a miserable topping to be put atop bored apathy, he thought.</p><p>Without much ceremony, Ranseur fell into one of the seats in his foyer where he dozed off with minimal effort.</p>
<hr/><p>"Nuh-uh," gawked Grimlock. "You were a zeno – xeni – scrap, what's that word again?"</p><p>"You were a classist xenophobe?" exclaimed Fix-It.</p><p>"I honestly <em>never</em> would've guessed," Bumblebee stated, wide-eyed. "You act <em>nothing </em>like that now!"</p><p>Ranseur smiled thinly, "Now you see why I don't talk freely about my past. It is a shameful stain that I would prefer to forget or erase, but cannot. But, fret not, my friends. I didn't remain a spoiled, ignorant brat for very long, obviously. Fate had a rather dramatic upheaval in store for me...whether I appreciated it or not."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I meant to start posting this during Pride Month, but as you can see I'm a bit late to the party. Sorry! D:</p></blockquote></div></div>
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